Life after Death
by tt22123
Summary: Sherlock thinks John hates him after the return and so wonders if it were be better for him to leave. Lestrade disagrees with this idea though. NO MARY. TW: Suicidal thoughts
1. CopyRight

Any of the characters portrayed within this story do not belong to me, I am merely borrowing them from their oh-so-amazing original authors. I do not make any money from this story and it is not to be published or to be used for others purposes other than reading on this site where I have posted it. The original author has all right to this story and I do not claim to own anything other than the plot. I wish I owned the world and the characters but alas I am a book binder/restorer, not an author.


	2. Chapter 1

"I want to thank you for all the cases Lestrade."

"Sounds like you're saying goodbye or something Sherlock."

"I am, I think that it would be best if I leave London. John hates me, he would prefer it if I weren't here."

"Don't."

"It is clear that he doesn't like me anymore, I shouldn't be a constant reminder for him."

"Don't you dare Sherlock. You can be a complete idiot sometimes. You don't know how he will react. You weren't here Sherlock." Tears began welling up in Lestrade's eyes as he thought about the time Sherlock was away. "You weren't the one who got drunk phone calls from him at all hours of the night. You weren't the one who would have to run to the graveyard, only to find John sat on your grave with his gun in his mouth. He doesn't hate you Sherlock, God knows he has got cause to but he doesn't. If you leave again he won't miss you, because he won't be doing anything for much longer. He will be the one that is missed. If you leave him alone you would be the biggest jerk ever." The tears were freely flowing as Lestrade continued talking, even Sherlock the self-proclaimed sociopath, had a couple of tears running down his cheeks. "You faked your suicide to save John, he would **actually** kill himself without you. Do you know something Sherlock? In those drunken phone calls John was very chatty. The day he met you he was on his way home to use his gun on himself, that was his plan until he met this strange, yet wonderful, genius who actually seemed to want to live with him. You saved his life that day Sherlock, don't take it away from him. Just- just don't." Lestrade had sunk down to his knees as he finished talking, no longer caring what the detective thought of him, how 'sentimental' he would be blamed for being.

Sherlock crouched down in front of Lestrade and hesitantly wrapped his arm around the crying man. The hug seemed awkward to the genius at first but as Lestrade started to return the gesture he relaxed further and took simple comfort in the contact as he thought over what he was just told.

"I- I didn't know. He seems to hate me. I thought that he would have moved on, found a woman, forgotten about me and that he wouldn't care I was gone. I never thought he would react like that, I'm nothing important to him."

"Oh you idiot. I don't think I would be lying to say that you are his best friend and the one that he cares for above anything or anyone else. You are the one who gave his life meaning when it had all but lost it before. You are the only opinion that matters to him. He loves you, you absolute idiot." Although the tears were still flowing these words were said with a smile at the thought that, for once, he had more information that Sherlock, for once he knew more than the genius. "Go home to him Sherlock. Don't leave him again, I beg you, or I will not be able to forgive you."

"Shit! I left him a note Lestrade. I told him I was leaving. If he's home from the shops he'll of seen it. What if he has tried something?" The detective was beginning to panic as he thought of what John might do, he knew that if he didn't get his breathing under control it would soon spiral into panic attack that he hadn't had since his teenage years but he couldn't do it. The fear for John was far too strong for him to think logically.

"God Sherlock. Not giving you a choice here, come with me." Lestrade hoisted Sherlock up by his elbows before dragging him out of the building and towards the nearest Police Car. For once Sherlock did not complain about going or state that he would follow behind, rather he slipped into the seat and sat there quietly as Lestrade turned on the siren and took off through the London streets as fast as he could. The car hadn't even pulled to a stop before Sherlock was out of the vehicle and running up the steps of 221B Baker Street, Greg letting him go up on his own as he returned to the Yard.

Opening the door to the flat Sherlock instantly spotted John crying in Sherlock's armchair, clutching the letter to his chest like a lifeline, the last connection with Sherlock being severed with each written word. John was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not realise the presence of the detective until he felt someone sit on the arm of the chair, wrap their arms around him and place chaste kisses into his hair while whispering apologies.

"I'm sorry John. I'm so so sorry. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry." The chant repeated over and over as Sherlock held John as close as he possibly could, tears falling into the short, sandy blonde hair. John quickly realised that Sherlock meant what he was saying so he calmed down and stopped crying however he could still feel the tears as they landed in his hair from the taller man next to him. He smiled softly at the thought that the detective obviously meant his remorse for saying he was leaving but he couldn't let the detective sit there crying over him. The soldier looped an arm around Sherlock's shoulders and another under his knees before pulling him off the arm so that the man was sat in John's lap.

As Sherlock felt himself being settled on John's lap he instantly turned his face into the crook of the man's neck so his sentimentality was hidden from view. His arms snaked around John, wriggling their way between the John's back and that of the chair, so that they circled him completely and made sure that the doctor was unable to move away even if he wanted to.

"What's brought all this on 'lock?"

"What- what did you just call me?"

"I'm sorry. Sherlock I should have said."

"No, I liked it, I've never been called it before is all."

"Oh, I'll remember that fact in the future then. So, what brought this on?"

"I'm sorry John. I'm not leaving. Forgive me, please don't hate me."

"Hate you? I could NEVER hate you Sherlock. There is nothing really to forgive. Why did you think that I could possibly hate you?"

"It just seemed as though you don't like having me around anymore, I thought you didn't like me or that you just didn't like me being here so you would want me to leave. I- I don't want to be the reason that you are in pain anymore and so I thought the way to fix that would be to move away from London, but I don't want to leave you. I'm sorry John."

"Stop apologising 'lock, you don't need to. You didn't leave, you're here, so you don't need to keep saying sorry. It's okay, I can promise you that. I don't hate you, okay? I'm just having to get used to you being around once more is all, I spent two years dreaming of the day that you'd return to me but I don't know that I ever believed you really would come back to me." Sherlock had calmed down by this point so he was just listening to John's words while still leaning on the shorter man's shoulder.

The two men slipped into a comfortable silence as they continued to sit in the detective's armchair together, arms around the other. Sherlock began to drift off to sleep after an hour or so, making John decide to lift him and carry him into the bedroom. He settled Sherlock down on the bed, raised the covers and began to walk away until he heard a soft whimper.

"John, stay." John looked back at the man in the bed and noticed the pale blue eyes watching him with guarded emotions, as if expecting to be reprimanded for requesting the doctor's company. John stood there contemplating leaving for a few seconds until he decided that he couldn't ignore the detective's wishes so he walked back the couple of steps and moved to the bed so that he could climb in next to the other man. As soon as John was situated comfortably Sherlock shifted so that his head was resting over John's heart, listening to the steady beat there. "Do you mind?" the detective whispered into the silence of the room.

"Not at all 'lock. Sleep well."

"Thank you. You too."

The two men woke late the next day, neither having anywhere to be so no alarms had been set and since both men had had trouble sleeping lately the peaceful night was a welcome change, well for John, Sherlock only appreciated getting so much sleep as it made John thankful that he was finally getting some proper rest.

Other than one text from Lestrade (asking about John rather than with a case for them) they were undisturbed for the entire day and so Sherlock vowed that he would make sure he didn't upset John again. After eating a late breakfast, or early lunch, Sherlock began clearing out the fridge of all body parts and experiments, as well as sterilising it, before returning all of their food to its rightful place. After he finished the fridge Sherlock quickly cleaned the rest of the kitchen while John nipped out and brought some more milk and other groceries now that he were able to store them safely. Upon his return, John noticed their clean kitchen instantly, shocked that Sherlock would get rid of all his experiments but nonetheless thrilled by the lack of body parts next to the cheese.

Once all of the shopping was put away John went and lead out on the sofa with the remote and put the television on, when Sherlock walked in the room he silently lifted his arm, a silent invite for the detective to join him on the sofa. An invite which was accepted without hesitation as Sherlock stretched out in front of John but so that they could both still see the screen.

"Have you seen this before 'lock?" A smile spread across Sherlock's face as he heard the nickname uttered once more.

"No, why?"

"I have. Deduce it for me. Tell me about the characters and the plot. Tell me what will happen, if there is a plot twist and if so, what is the twist. Tell me everything you can figure out."

"You don't like me doing that normally."

"I like being able to watch a film without it being ruined, but I've seen this, you can't ruin it. I want to hear everything that your brilliant mind can guess about this film."

"I don't guess John."

"Deduce then." With this Sherlock began an in depth description on all of the characters that came up on screen, what had happened in previous movies in the series, and what would happen in the rest of them.

"... he loves her for her mind, whereas the other guy wants her body and nothing more. He thinks that she is interesting and that is why he values their relationship, strained though it is due to him being a serial murdering cannibal and her being the FBI agent trying to recapture him after his escape."

"Brilliant."

"You still think so?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"Because I left you John. I made you think that I was dead, that you had watched me commit suicide. I made you think that you meant nothing to me, when you mean everything. I love you John and I put you through so much that I would never wish upon anyone and yet still you think that I am brilliant. I don't deserve you as an acquaintance, let alone anything else." Sherlock stood from the sofa and grabbed his violin on his way through to his bedroom where he hastily shut the door and began playing. It was many hours later when Sherlock put down his bow and opened his door once more, only to see John sat on the floor outside his door, using his laptop as if where he was sat was nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps it wasn't, John had spent countless hours in that same position while Sherlock was away, wanting to open the door but scared to find the room empty, the only difference was that this time the violin music was proof that the room was occupied.

John looked up when he saw the two bare feet in his peripheral, slowly inching closer and closer to him until the final stopped and the man they were attached to sat on the floor Indian style so their legs were touching.

"You're an idiot Sherlock."

"You know, I've been hearing that a lot the last couple of days. You, Goeff, whoever will be next."

"Geoff?"

"Yes, you know, Lestrade."

"Oh for crying out- It's Greg."

"Yes, yes, why am I an idiot now?"

"You may have left, but you also came back to me 'lock. You may have killed yourself, but you survived. You may think that I believed you didn't care for me, but you let me into your life so I always knew otherwise. You may say that you love me, but I love you too. Those are the reasons that you are an idiot, this time around." Sherlock instantly leant his tall frame forwards so that he was able to wrap his arms around John and rest their foreheads together.

"I think they are acceptable reasons for me to be an idiot."

"They are great reasons for you to be an idiot 'lock." The two men sat with their heads together until Sherlock noticed John start to shift uncomfortably.

"How long have you been sat here?"

"Umm, about 30 seconds after you closed your door earlier."

"But that was hours ago?"

"Yeah, now who's the idiot?"

"Why didn't you just knock, or come in?"

"Because I knew that you would come out when you were ready. There was no reason to rush you."

"You still should've knocked."

"No, I shouldn't. You clearly needed some time alone, to think. I wasn't going to burst into your room because you have shut the door. If you wanted me there, you would have left it open, you clearly wanted privacy 'lock, and that is perfectly fine. I wasn't doing anyone any bother by sitting here, waiting for you, and you weren't doing anyone any bother by wanting some privacy. Now, come on, let's move off the floor, please." Sherlock stood and offered John a helping hand which was gratefully accepted.

"What were you up to anyway?"

"Updating a blog."

"Really? I didn't have anything come up on my phone saying you had posted a new case or anything."

"Not that blog Sherlock."

"Then what-?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out, or rather, to deduce if you will." Seeing that the conversation seemed to be over for now Sherlock let the blog drop but in his mind he still focused on the idea of the secret blog and the puzzle that he was presented with. Instead, he outwardly focused on John while his inner monologue was deciphering the riddle of the secret his flatmate held.

"I feel the same way as he did. You know that 'lock?"

"Mmm, who John?"

"The man from the film. Hannibal Lector."

"You like the taste of human flesh?" Sherlock joked, not used to the confusion that had settled in his mind but unwilling to let the shorter man see this fact.

"No, you idiot, he loved Clarice for her mind. I feel the same about you."

"Oh." Sherlock suddenly froze at this admission and didn't even blink as he continued to gaze unseeing towards John. The detective couldn't even figure out how to breathe so the only motion that was even somewhat visible was the slight movement of his chest as his heart pounded away behind bone and skin. Soon his breathing returned but the man still refused to blink or move in any other way and after a minute or so John became worried.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I know how you hate sentiment. It's true though, I needed to say it, even if nothing changes, I needed you to know that I love you. Please Sherlock, you're scaring me." Although he didn't appear to be listening, the genius registered every word that John said and snapped back into reality as soon as the soldier had admitted his fear to the man. Shooting forward, he wrapped his arms tightly around John and began whispering.

"John. My John. I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry. I-I feel the same way. As you do. Towards me?"

"I think that is perhaps the first time I have ever heard you sound unsure of yourself." 

"I'm sure of **myself**."

"You doubt my feelings towards you."

"I- I don't. I don't know. I don't understand. You love me?"

"Yes," John said with a small, soft chuckle, "yes. I love you Sherlock. Nothing can change that."

"But, **me**?"

"You." John could tell that these words were rarely, if ever, spoken to Sherlock by anyone, perhaps not even by his family, so he didn't get bothered by the seeming lack of trust in his words from the man and was willing to sit there and will the man to understand it for as long as it took.

"I don't-" tears began to form as Sherlock battled his insecurities. Tears that John wiped away each time one escaped and made its path down pale cheeks.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's okay 'lock, I love you. My brilliant, clever, sometimes insane, annoying genius."

"Only sometimes?"

"Only when you come home with a harpoon covered in blood having taken the tube back to the flat. You looked pretty insane at that point." John considered himself to be successful when Sherlock gave a small smile at these words and at the memory that John was referring to.

"That was definitely an 8."

"At least you had the good reason for coming home as you were if the case was an 8 on the scale then."

"I-I love you John Watson."

"I know, you idiot. I love you too Sherlock Holmes."

"It- It's William."

"What is?"

"My name. William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I figure you should know my full name since I know yours. Admissions of the truth and all that since I just told you the only other secret that I have."

"Why use 'Sherlock' then?"

"I'm not normal. I didn't want to be ordinary. I wanted to be something special, like 'Mycroft' so I chose to go by Sherlock instead. You are the only one, other than my brother and parents, who knows that. Even in official records Mycroft uses Sherlock, lest he have an unremarkable counterpart to himself in the family, well that's what he says, I think in a way he does it for me, he knows that I did it because of him and in a way I think he liked the fact that it is a constant reminder that I looked up to him as a child."

"You will never be ordinary in my eyes Sherlock, only ever special."

"The same goes for you John. What- what are we now?"

"We can be whatever you want."

"But, are we in a relationship?"

"If that is what you want, then yes. If it isn't, no."

"I want you but I- I'm- I've never- I'm scared."

"Hey, it's fine Sherlock. You don't need to be scared. I promise, I will never hurt you."

"Like I did you?"

"That's not what I meant. I'm fine 'lock. But you do not need to be scared of this if this is what you want to happen."

"I'm not scared of you, I'm scared of what will happen if we move forward with our relationship. The two years away from you were hard and things happened that weren't exactly consensual."

"Oh 'lock."

"I don't need your pity John."

"It isn't pity Sherlock. You needn't worry about that though. It will never happen unless **you** want it to."

"But what about you, you-"

"-are asexual Sherlock. I don't particularly care for sex so you don't have to worry that I will ever pressure you into it. We will only ever do anything along those lines if **you** want us to."

"Asexual?"

"Yes."

"But I thought- all those women?"

"What about them?"

"I thought you slept with them."

"I'd slept with a couple who wanted that. Who'd looked passed my sexuality and wanted to try a relationship with someone who did not actually find them sexually attractive. That's why I rarely saw any of them more than once or twice Sherlock. They didn't understand, nor did they want to."

"Oh." Sherlock and John sat there in silence while Sherlock thought over all of the information that he had been given while John allowed him the time to figure out what it was that he wanted between the two of them. Around 10 minutes later Sherlock returned from his mind palace to find John still sat next to him with a cup of tea in his hands and another cup on the table in front of himself which he gratefully took a sip off as he whispered his thanks to John. He slowly put his cup down as the shorter man did the same before making up his mind on the course of action that he was about to take.

John looked towards Sherlock in curiousity as Sherlock turned to face him. Slowly leaning forward the detective wrapped a hand around the side of John's neck while the other hand came up to cup the man's cheek as he closed the remaining bit of distance between them and gently ghosted his lips over John's. His soft pink lips pressed harder into the doctor's chapped lips as they both relaxed deeper into the kiss. Tentatively swiping his tongue along the join of John's lips Sherlock was granted access which he hastened to take advantage of, slipping his tongue into the soldiers mouth twisting their tongues together in a slow dance until they decided to pull apart once more. Both with their eyes closed in the moment, neither willing to open them and break the fragile, peaceful spell they were under.

Eventually John opened his eyes only to find himself sat in Sherlock's chair, gun still in hand from where he had fallen asleep crying over the memories of Sherlock's broken body on the pavement in front of Bart's. Lifting his gun to his temple John spotted Sherlock standing in the doorway to the flat, closing his eyes against the hallucination John placed his finger on the trigger.

 _ ***BANG***_

John flinched as he felt the gun being snatched away and thrown against the opposite wall. He slowly opened his tired eyes to see Sherlock right in front of him, tears in his eyes. Weight settled on his lap as Sherlock sat and wrapped his arms around John's shoulder and buried his face against John's neck.

"I'm sorry John. I'm so so sorry. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry. I'm back. Please don't kill yourself, I can't lose you again, not now that I have finally come back to you. Not now that I finally have you safe. I love you, please don't leave me John. I need you." John could feel the tears that ran along his neck as the detective shook with each word he said so he held Sherlock close and ran his fingers through the raven curls that tickled his chin with every slight movement the man in his lap made.

"I love you too Sherlock. Just- just don't leave me again and I won't. I won't try to- to shoot myself again."

"Thank you that John."

"Thank you for coming back Sherlock."

"I'll never leave you again John."


End file.
